McKay (scribbulus_ink) wrote in time_of_storms, @ 2006-03-04 10:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | chronological, lupin |
October 2, 1997
Original poster: werwolfoflondon
Music: Quentin's Theme, from Dark Shadows (I'm being shamefully indulgent and amusing myself in choosing this one.)
It had taken several days for the messages to be sent and for a time and meeting place to be agreed upon, but finally, Henri had arranged for a gathering of the Alphas from all neighboring packs. Only one had outright refused, but Henri had shrugged it off, explaining to Remus that it wasn't personal; the Alpha in question tended to practice isolationist policies.
The rest, however, had agreed to meet with Remus and listen to his request, and now that the time had come, Remus felt like a band of Cornish pixies had taken up residence in his stomach and were playing a lively game of Quidditch. Too much was at stake for him to fail now, and the last thing he wanted was to return home and face whatever punishment Voldemort doled out for failing in carrying out his mission and report failure to the Order as well. Considering the doubts some of them were having before he left, he was certain that coming home empty handed would raise their suspicions even more.
There were four present, including Henri - three male and one female. They had refused to meet anywhere in Henri's village, preferring neutral ground since this was, for all intents and purposes, a meeting for diplomatic negotiations, and the meeting place they had all agreed upon was a private dining room in a Muggle town that was more or less equal distance from all four packs. Henri had arranged for a circular table to be placed in the room, and they had shared dinner and a bottle of wine before turning the discussion to the business at hand.
But once the dishes had been cleared away and their glasses all filled once more, Yuri - a stocky, burly man whose beard and hair made Hagrid look well-kept and who looked as if he might have become Alpha of his pack simply by breaking or squishing his opponents between his meaty fingers - turned to Remus with an expectant look.
"Henri tells us you have a proposition," he began without preamble. "I wish to know what it is."
The other two - Magda, a dark-haired, sloe-eyed woman who looked as if she had Romany blood, and Nikolai, who was slim and fair - reclined in their chairs, turning their full attention on Remus as they waited for him to begin.
"I thank you for coming and for being willing to hear me out," Remus began, inclining his head in respectful acknowledgment. They didn't have to be here, and he didn't want to risk antagonizing them with discourtesy. "I've come on behalf of those fighting against the Dark Lord Voldemort. The war - the second we've fought against him - is being waged in all of Britain, and if left unchecked, Voldemort's lust for power will urge him to look to the Continent next."
"I have heard of Voldemort and of your wars," Magda said. "If memory serves, your people did not defeat him in battle."
"No," Remus admitted. "The truth is, we aren't faring much better now, which is why I've come to ask for help. He'll want you to fight for him, but if you do, the chances of his winning grow stronger, and the world he'll create in the aftermath isn't one I care to contemplate. He's mad, and he's dangerous, and he won't stop trying to conquer and dominate."
"If we don't fight for him, and he wins anyway, what then?" Nikolai asked. "If your side is weak, there is no guarantee you will win, and then what shall become of us if he decides to seek revenge?"
"If you help us, then we won't be so weak, and we'll have a greater chance of winning," Remus pointed out, but Nikolai didn't look convinced of the soundness of the argument.
"What of the werewolves in your country?" Yuri asked, stroking his beard as he regarded Remus shrewdly. "Whose side do they fight on?"
"His," Remus admitted reluctantly. "For now, at least. That may change."
"Ah ha - and we know why they fight for him, do we not?" Yuri continued, and Remus felt his stomach sink to his shoes. This wasn't going at all well so far. "Your Ministry is not kind to us. After what I have heard of them, I expected you to show up wearing rags."
Remus felt heat rise in his cheek, but he said nothing, especially since the truth was, if he hadn't been given clothes by a woman in Henri's pack, he would have shown up in his old, ragged clothes. The woman was human, but her son had been a werewolf, and she had moved to the village with him out of necessity due to her illness. He had been killed by a pelt hunter nearly a year before, but she had remained in the village; it had become home, and the pack took care of her as her son had. She had given Remus her son's clothes after seeing the state of his own; they had been about the same size, and it had only taken a bit of adjusting to make them fit perfectly.
"Why should we help your Ministry when they do not help our kind?"
"Because how the Ministry treats us is wrong, but what Voldemort would do is worse," Remus said, meeting Yuri's gaze steadily. "He tortures Muggles and kills wizard-kind born of Muggles because they taint the purity of the bloodlines. I believe he only courts werewolves now because they make useful soldiers, but once our usefulness is at an end, I've no doubt he'll turn on us too, because we're even more tainted. We aren't even human. He wants to raise up Purebloods and purge the rest. Do you honestly think we won't be considered among the ranks who deserve to be purged?"
There was some shifting and murmuring at the table then, and Remus lifted his chin, feeling a surge of hope. "I'm not asking you to fight with us if you feel you can't," he said, pressing the issue. "I just ask that you don't fight for him. Even neutrality is more helpful to us than having more werewolves among Voldemort's ranks."
"What other reason to join you do you offer?" Nikolai leaned forward, regarding Remus with a gleam of interest in his eyes. "Abstract notions of ethics and morality are all very well and good, but some of us prefer more concrete incentives," he added, reaching out to slide his hand along Remus' forearm.
Remus blinked, startled, and he felt his cheeks grow hot again, knowing his face must be turning bright pink, and he couldn't seem to muster a response, especially with the others smiling or chuckling knowingly.
"My wolf likes yours," Nikolai said, seeming to take Remus' lack of a reaction as encouragement, and he stroked the back of Remus' hand gently.